Resident Evil: Contingency
by RaKais
Summary: The Raccoon Mansion wasn't the only facility on American soil. And it's just gone dark.


Prologue

 **0400 Hours**

 **22/12/2016**

 **Location: [CLASSIFIED]**

Somewhere a light blinked from green, to red. It was housed in a small plastic casing, set in the centre of polished wooden panel on the right side of an oaken desk. The desk occupied most of the room it had been placed in, with a well worn leather recliner beside it. Sat in this chair, the person in charge of watching for when the light changed lent forward with barely a creak and stared at the small disc shaped bulb. He adjusted his glasses and waited a few more seconds but the red glow continued to illuminate his face. Several screens were set into the wall by the desk, but they had turned off hours ago due to a power failure and without being able to see the rest of the facility, he could only assume the worst had come to pass.

There was nothing for it.

The man reached into his coat and withdrew a small flip-phone, which he opened. The hinge was stiff, having never been opened before and it took some time for the device to power up.

Behind him, the door self-locked with a heavy click as heavy bolts slid automatically from the frame into place. Someone began to hammer on the outside of the door but it was too late. The door would not be opening for anyone.

The man calmly dialed the only number saved into the phone and held it to his ear. Someone picked up immediately.

"Sir," The man said. "It's happened. As you predicted."

"And the specimens?" A voice rumbled back.

"Containment has been disabled. The power has been cut. This is the only room connected to the back-up generators."

There were muffled bangs from the hallway and the hammering stopped instantly.

"Leave it with me. You know what you have to do."

"Yes sir," The man closed the phone and carefully placed it back on the desk. He'd been told about this contingency since the first moment he'd stepped into the facility but it sounded so far fetch that he'd almost forgot. A containment breach. Possible statistically, but realistically not so. The man rested his elbows on the oaken surface and started counting back from thirty.

By the time he reached zero, the lights died and he was left alone with the small red light, blinking away what would most likely be his last moments.

In the darkness, something started to hit the door again. But it was sluggish and mostly weak. Seconds ticked by, and the staccato of thumps increased.

The scientist sighed.

 **0500 Hours**

 **Location: BSAA HQ, USA BRANCH**

 **WASHINGTON**

Within the hour, arrangements had been made. Calls had gone out and even at such an unsociable hour, agents were being briefed. Things had to be set in motion and every second counted. Running this madness, the director of the BSAA branch in Washington sat in his office and he was pensive. He was a stern man approaching his mid-forties and though his hair was shot with grey, he was still broad of shoulder and imposing. His field days weren't too far behind him and as the phones rang all around him, he started to miss those days. He didn't answer the phones. The only people who would need to speak to him would be arriving shortly. Anyone calling was not in the loop and therefore unimportant. He swiveled in his chair and stared out of the window behind his desk. The sun was beginning to rise and the light filtered weakly through an overcast sky. The compound was still slick with last night's rain. The world outside was quiet, completely unaware of the catastrophe that was boiling under the earth.

He held a fist up and clenched it tightly until the whites of knuckles show through.

"Just what are you planning...?" He murmured.

"Who, sir?" A voice asked from behind him. The director turned his chair back around to see a sharply dressed man step smoothly into the room. He was well groomed, and in his late thirties. He was short, and trim but there was a definite hardness in his eyes. He carried a black, leather bound folder under his right arm.

"Ah, Samuel, impeccable timing," He said with a smile. Then with a nod of his head, "and hearing."

"Always be observant, I believe that was one of your common phrases," Samuel said. "I just thought you should know that preparations are almost complete. All necessary resources and weaponry have been put aside and our... investors have been made aware of this breach."

"Excellent," The director said. "The crucial question is, what operatives do we have?"

Samuel sighed and stepped closer to the desk.

"Unfortunately sir, we have a problem in that regard."

"Oh?"

"We actually don't have any available agents in the country," Samuel said. "There have been a number of incidents across Europe and Africa of late and our efforts have been focused there."

"What?" The director rose from his chair. He pressed the hands firmly on the desk and leaned forward. "We have _no one?_ What about Redfield?"

"Redfield is off the grid at the moment."

" _Off the grid?_ "

"Yes sir, you gave him operational lead on his assignment, remember?"

The director straightened up. "And what about Kennedy? Can we give the President a call?"

"Also unavailable. He's already on a Presidential errand."

"I assume you have already selected the candidates?"

"Right ahead of you sir," Samuel said. He set the folder down on the table and unzipped it. He tugged out several files. They had yellow sleeves and had the BSAA emblem stamped on the cover, underlined with red lettering. The director could see each had a single name written on it and they were arranged in alphabetical order. Samuel spread out the files along the desk. The director slowly read each name. His hand hovered over the first one, he looked up at Samuel.

"I can only assume everyone here has a military background?"

"Correct. Mostly special forces, but there are a few," Samuel pointed to various names, "that have tech backgrounds. I figured that we may need some engineering and computer expertise."

"I clearly did not make a mistake with your posting, Samuel." The Director moved his finger across the row of files before picking one at random. He opened it and glanced at the photo on the inside of the cover. "Tell me about this one."

"Well, sir, he's an SAS operative, currently on attachment with Joint Task Force in Vancouver..."


End file.
